Chapter 62

Elara

Somehow, a few months of bliss passed after that fateful night that Alaric proposed. Eventually we began to encroach upon the original six month span of our arrangement, but we barely even noticed.

In fact, our arrangement had quickly become a thing of the past.

We weren’t constrained by our lies, we weren’t held back by the inevitable end of it all. We were together. In love. A happy little family, despite certain people’s—namely Grace’s—beliefs.

And today, just a few days before the winter solstice, was the day of our wedding.

The pale winter light streaming in through the sheer curtains caught the delicate beading along the bodice of my dress, the pearls carefully wound throughout my veil. I ran my hands over the fabric of my skirt one last time, smoothing out the invisible creases, but my fingers trembled slightly against the silk.

It wasn’t nerves, though, that had my hands shaking. Not really.

It was the excitement that was coursing through my veins, the knowledge that in less than an hour, I would be standing at the altar with Alaric, finally saying our vows.

I never thought I would be here, like this. Not after Mason. Honestly, over the years, I had come to believe that I would never find love again, and especially not marriage. Then, when I had entered into my arrangement with Alaric, I had figured that that was the closest thing to marriage I would ever get again.

It was a sad conclusion to come to, heartbreaking even, but it didn’t matter now.

Now, I was about to walk down the aisle. And Alaric Donovan, my mate, was going to become my husband; not just on paper, but in all the ways that mattered.

Until death do us part.

Sighing softly, I reached up and brushed my fingers across the mating mark on my neck. It buzzed a little beneath my touch, and I shivered slightly as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I then shut my eyes and sent a gentle nudge down that bond.

A faint hum pulsed back through it a moment later, indicating that Alaric had felt my nudge. It was hard not to grin from ear to ear at that sensation.

When we had announced holding a real wedding in just a few short months, we had been met with raised eyebrows. Of course, our impromptu courthouse marriage all those months ago had already left people suspicious of our relationship, and now we were pulling together a wedding last-minute.

Normally, Alphas and Lunas were expected to hold big, lavish weddings. But ours wasn’t like that, and people were whispering—claiming that it was just another sham, among many other assumptions.

But truthfully, we just wanted to get married quickly. I mean, technically, we were already married—but we craved a wedding. We decided on a small ceremony, an intimate reception at a local restaurant. Nothing over-the-top or extravagant. We weren’t that type of couple.

“Mommy, you look like a princess!”

Smiling, I glanced toward the door where Zoe was standing. She was practically vibrating with excitement in her pale pink dress, her curls tied back with a wreath of tiny white flowers. Ella lingered behind her, trying to play it cool, but I caught the way she fidgeted with the hem of her dress, which was a similar style in a baby blue color.

“Do I?” I knelt in front of them, brushing a stray curl from Zoe’s face before smoothing Ella’s skirt down. “I thought you two were the princesses today.”

Zoe giggled. “Nooo, I’m the flower girl. You’re the queen now.”

I laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. “Well, I suppose that makes you the princess of flowers. That’s even better.”

Ella smiled faintly, her usual stoic mask slipping just enough for me to see the warmth underneath. “Daddy’s going to cry when he sees you,” she said quietly, her eyes softening the way they always did when she let herself be vulnerable.

My heart tugged a little. I brushed my fingers over the necklace Alaric had given me the night before—a simple pendant, but the meaning behind it far outweighed the sparkle of the diamonds inlaid along its edges.

“Maybe,” I whispered, the thought of Alaric standing at the altar enough to send a flurry of butterflies through my stomach.

He wasn’t the kind of man who showed emotion easily. But lately, I’d caught glimpses of something softer in him, like the walls he’d built around his heart had finally begun to crack.

And tonight, I would break them down completely.

I hadn’t told him yet. About the pregnancy.

The test was still hidden in the drawer of my nightstand, carefully buried beneath a scarf. I’d just found out last week, when I had missed my period. I took the test, figuring it would be negative, but was overjoyed when I found out that there would be a new addition to the family.

A baby. Our baby. A piece of both of us, wrapped up into one.

Of course, I knew that Alaric and the girls would be thrilled as well. But I wanted to wait until our wedding night to tell him—to make it even more special.

“Alright, you two.” I stood, smoothing their hair one last time. “Go find Beta James. He’s waiting for you.”

Zoe hugged me tightly before running off down the hall, her giggles echoing faintly as Ella followed behind.

The room fell quiet again, and I took a moment to breathe before stepping out.

The ceremony space was small and intimate, just as we had planned it. The room was lit by soft candles. There weren’t many guests; just close friends, a handful of pack members, and the girls, who stood proudly by the altar holding their baskets of flowers.

Alaric stood at the end of the aisle, his broad shoulders wrapped in a black suit that made him look almost unfairly handsome. His hair, slightly tousled despite his best efforts, caught the candlelight, and his eyes—Goddess, those eyes—locked onto mine the second I stepped into the room.

In an instant, everything else faded away.

I barely felt the floor beneath my feet as I walked toward him, the bond between us thrumming softly. It felt unreal, but it was. This was it. We were getting married.

Alaric’s hand extended the moment I reached him, his fingers curling gently around mine as he pulled me forward. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand, lingering there.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice low enough so that only I could hear.

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His lips quirked up into the faintest of smiles, but there was something softer in his eyes, something unspoken.

The officiant began speaking, but the words felt distant, like background music to the moment Alaric and I stood in—the quiet intimacy of it, the way his gaze never left mine.

It felt perfect.

But then, just as we were about to say our vows, the doors at the back of the room creaked open.

I barely registered the sound at first, too caught up in the moment, but Alaric’s fingers tightened suddenly around mine.

The air shifted.

I turned slightly, glancing over my shoulder.

A woman stepped through the doorway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she strode straight down the aisle. Straight toward us.

Her hair—golden, loose curls framing her face—caught the candlelight, and for one brief, frozen second, I thought maybe I was imagining it.

But Alaric’s grip on my hand went slack, and I knew I wasn’t imagining anything.

His voice broke through the stunned silence, barely louder than a whisper.

“Sarah… Is that you?”